


Not Too Late

by FrivolousSuits



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Episode s07e16: Good-Bye, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/pseuds/FrivolousSuits
Summary: Gabriel Macht liked a tweet about how the Season 7 finale is incomprehensible; shouldn't Mike and Harvey just be holding hands on the beach?





	Not Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Gabriel Macht gave us a fix-it fic prompt. What was I supposed to do, not write it immediately?

Harvey’s flight from Chicago arrives too late.

When he finally makes it to New York, Harvey sprints as fast as he can without alarming security, hurtling from the gate towards baggage claim. If he breaks just a few speed limits, he’ll make it back to his apartment, change into one of his tuxes, and then get to the hotel before the reception’s wholly over. He’ll be there for Mike. He can’t for the life of him figure out why Donna had to give him the invitation behind Mike’s back, why Mike rushed into this slapdash wedding, but he’ll do anything for Mike–

Mike.

That’s Mike, standing amidst all the chauffeurs by the baggage carousels, and Harvey stops still, trying to catch his breath.

“You should be at the wedding.”

“No.” Harvey tilts his head, questioning, and Mike sighs. “I was making a mistake.”

“Marrying Rachel?”

“Among other things.” He shifts, glancing over Harvey’s shoulder. “Look, I’ve made a mess of everything, and I just wanted to save you the hassle of rushing for a wedding that didn’t happen.”

“You could have called for that.” He narrows his eyes. “What’s really going on?”

When Mike stays silent, Harvey moves around the barrier that separates them and then walks back to him. “What happened?”

“Oh god–” Mike's eyes widen at just that moment, and he starts stammering– “there’s a car coming, I didn’t cancel it–”

“Mike, calm down,” he says, gentle but firm, “and back up. What’s the car’s about?”

“It’s for the honeymoon? We had a suite at Caesars.”

“Atlantic City?”

“Yeah.”

“Call the car and redirect it here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He doesn’t know what the hell’s up with Mike, and he doesn’t have the chance to find out– some other guy mixes up their luggage and walks off with Harvey’s suitcase, and he has to run around to get it back. Mike follows him, but he stays strangely silent.

They don’t get to talk until they’re in a limo to Atlantic City, and even then there’s an awkward silence in between them. Harvey’s about to break it when Mike asks, “Why are we here?”

“Honest answer?” He raises an eyebrow, and Mike nods. “I just got beaten in ways I didn’t think possible, out in Chicago. I need an easy win.”

“Watch out, Atlantic City,” Mike chuckles, trying to seize the out. “We can take them for all they’re worth–”

“Mike.”

Mike’s smile crumples. When he speaks again, his voice is taut. “I walked away again.”

“From the wedding?”

“Yeah."

There’s something odd in how he says it, like it’s only a half-truth.

“What else?”

“I might need a lawyer to protect me from a breach of contract claim,” he mutters too fast, looking out the window.

“You've got one.”

Mike whips his head around. “You don’t even know what it’s for.”

“I don’t care, I’m here to defend you.”

He says it casually, but they both know he means it.

“It’s because I took another job,” Mike says, almost whispering.

Harvey blinks. “What–”

“I took another job,” he repeats with an huff. “Some random guy saw the _Times_ article, and he’s building this pro bono clinic, and it’s probably doomed but I thought maybe I could make it work –”

“I think you could,” Harvey says, swallowing hard. It’s true, Mike’s capable of miracles, and Harvey could still find ways to swing by the office and help him, it’s not like he’s leaving Harvey forever–

“It’s in Seattle.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I'm not going to go.”

“But why would you take it in the first place?” Harvey demands. “What the hell’s in Seattle?”

“Not you.”

"What does that mean?”

“It means,” he sighs, “I was trying to get away from you.”

The statement hangs in the air, and then Harvey finally nods. “Should have seen it coming.” Now Mike stares at him in surprise as he continues, “You've outgrown me, you don’t need me in your way–”

“Harvey, you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.”

“Why else would you move to goddamn Washington state?”

“Because I wanted to be happy,” Mike snaps. “I figured you didn’t need me, you’d get your happy ever after with Donna.”

“So–” Harvey squints, trying to understand– “you thought you’d be happiest if you dropped me and had Donna pick up the pieces?”

“Yes,” Mike says, his voice small. “In other news, I’ve been lying to myself a lot.”

Harvey tries to reply, but there’s nothing he can say to this. Why does Mike resent him so much? Why is Mike trying to escape him? Where the hell did he go wrong?

“Where the hell did I go wrong?”

“You existed.” Mike says it like a joke.

Harvey doesn’t laugh. “And . . . that’s a problem?”

“It makes it really hard to pretend I don’t love you.”

Oh.

_Oh._

"See, I’ve been lying to myself,” Mike says, his words finally spilling out. “I told myself it’d work out with Rachel, and that Seattle was some sort of great deal. I had myself convinced that if I just got away from you the whole story would fall into place, because this is the best story I can get, seeing how you’re not a sappy romantic like me.”

“Mike–”

He barrels on. “I kept finding ways to delay the wedding, and I told myself that wasn’t why, there was always a good reason, right? And I didn’t tell you about the new date now, because then it’d be easier to say ‘I do,’ because I wouldn’t be compulsively imagining the alternate universe where I’m saying it to you instead–”

“Mike–”

“And then I just. I got there. I was at the altar. And you weren’t there, I was missing my best man, and then . . . I might have run out of the room. Speaking of which, I’m going to have to send everyone there a really nice apology gift.” He breaks down in slightly deranged laughter.

“Mike.”

“What?” he says, burying his face in his hands.

“I am superior to you in every way.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That includes the sappy romance department.”

Mike lifts his head to look at him, eyes wide with wonder. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they arrive at Atlantic City, the night’s still young, at least by corporate law’s standards.

“You wanna hit the poker tables?” Mike says, sliding out of the car.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean, I’m technically still banned here . . .”

Snorting, Harvey shakes his head. “I think we’ve had enough drama for one day.”

“Want to just walk?”

He nods, and they just walk in the comfortable quiet that comes with years of friendship. Only on occasion do they break into the gleeful smiles that come with first love.

They make their way down to the nearby beach; they don’t fit in with their suits, but they also don’t care. They make random comments, clever references, little in-jokes, their banter somehow more flirtatious than ever before.

Without talking about it, they join hands.

“What are we going to do about the rooms?” Harvey asks after a while, his expression perfectly neutral.

“I mean–” Mike shoots Harvey a nervous glance– “you could potentially share the honeymoon suite with me.”

Harvey’s poker face cracks, and he pumps his fist, grinning. “Easiest win I could ask for.”


End file.
